The Next Chapter
by Asori
Summary: Deciding that he has had enough of the Bionic Academy, Chase wants to go to college.


**AN: Hey everyone! This one-shot is set during Season 4 of _Lab Rats_ sometime after _Space Elevator._ This one goes out to all of you who have started/are starting your education for the year. And that's all I have to say this time around; I hope you all enjoy this one-shot!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own _Lab Rats_ or any of the characters, just the plot.**

* * *

"If the moon weighs 161,990,000,000,000,011,010,048 pounds, is 238,900 miles from the earth, has a tilted orbit of five degrees, and makes one complete orbit around the earth in 27.3 days, how long does it take the space station with a 51.6 degree tilted orbit to make one complete orbit around the earth if it weighs 925,000 pounds and is 249 miles from the earth?" Chase Davenport stood up in front of his class with his arms crossed, staring down his students. Some of them had their mouths slightly open with a glazed look across their eyes, some had expressions that were scrunched up as if in pain, while still others didn't even bother to try the problem but instead chose to whisper quietly to their friends.

After a long silence, one girl tentatively raised her hand. "Thirteen days?" she asked more than answered.

"Hm, thirteen days... you think it takes thirteen days for the space station to orbit the earth?" Chase asked, his eyebrows raised. Inside he was seething.

"Yes," the girl gulped, and after glancing around at her classmates, she answered with more confidence "Yes. Thirteen days."

"Brilliant," Chase said. Her face began to light up, but the mentor continued, saying "It's _brilliant_ that you could answer that problem _so_ _wrong!_ " She flinched when he yelled the last words, sinking into her seat with cheeks burning.

"Any _other_ bright ideas?" Chase asked the class sarcastically. When only silence met his question, his said with exasperation "Come on, this is basic rocket science, people!"

Only even tenser silence met the demands of the super-genius, and he was certain that the only thing that could adequately fill it would be the awkward chirping of crickets.

The silence was finally broken by the bell dismissing class across the island academy for the rest of the day, and as the students hurriedly rose from their seats, Chase sighed angrily. "Ninety-two minutes! It takes ninety-two minutes!" he shouted at the other teens as they were leaving class. Before he knew it, the room was empty save for him.

"Uggghhhh!" he groaned, flopping down into his seat and burying his face into his arms on his desk. "I have the worst students _ever!_ "

It wasn't until his phone buzzed beside him that Chase sat up again, moodily grabbing it and tapping out his password at lightning speed. It was a text from Bree. - U know that if u want ur class 2 like u u have 2 b nice 2 them -

 _Seriously? Is it really that hard to spell out the words, use punctuation, and use correct grammar?_ he thought irritably. - Why do you say that now? - he responded.

A moment later his phone vibrated in his hand. - Bcuz Sandys crying n said u yelled at her -

\- Then she shouldn't give stupid answers. -

\- Or mab u should teach better -

\- Mab? -

\- Get a txt dictionary nerd -

Chase rubbed his face, his anger and frustration hovering around him in a dark cloud, threatening to rain on him. _Stupid sisters._

He looked back at his phone, seeking out a distraction from his negativity. There was a message from Dr. Ryan that he had received during the class period. - Guess who just got an award for the most agile drone design in the field? That's right, super-whatever, this genius right here! I make MIT proud. -

Chase sighed in annoyance, and scoffingly he replied - You graduated from MIT when you were fourteen? Yeah right. -

A minute later he received a response. - Took you that long to read a text? And they call you smart. Anyways, yeah dude, college isn't that hard. For me at least. It was a good time; I had fun messing with the professors. -

Chase growled, offended. But his curiosity about college had been sparked. - For your information, there is a reason that I am a teacher at eighteen years old. And who needs college? -

\- Cute. What, teaching the little kiddies how to count? If you want to do anything cool, you need a degree. I had my doctorate by the time I was eighteen. -

\- If you got your bachelor's degree when you were fourteen, you wouldn't have gotten your doctorate until you were at least twenty-four. Who's teaching who how to count, huh? -

\- Me. I got my doctorate at seventeen. That's right, it didn't take me ten years, but three. Dr. Ryan learns it the first time and he learns it right. Take notes. -

\- I don't need to learn anything because I already know it all! -

\- Sure. But you don't just learn facts at college, you learn how to think. And that's what you need. -

\- No I don't! -

\- Yes, you do. You know stuff but you don't know how to use it. If you ever want to be anyone respectable, get out of kindergarten and go to college. -

\- Let's see if you call this place kindergarten when you teach these morons! And you are far from respectable. -

\- I've always wanted to try my hand at teaching! See you tomorrow, then. I expect you to turn in a comprehensive report on the chemical and gravitational make-up of VY Canis Majoris upon my arrival. And who are you to call me un-respectable? -

\- NO! You are NOT coming tomorrow, and you will NOT teach! And, you play air-guitar and live in your mom's basement. -

\- Scared? Oh, and you know how nice a basement is to live in; that was your world while at the same age I was owning MIT. -

\- And yet you don't have a car. That is hardly respectable. -

\- I'm way more respectable than you. -

\- You're a slob and living like an immature teen when you're almost thirty! -

\- Exactly. -

Chase ground his teeth in fury, turning his phone off and slamming it down on the desk. He took a few deep breaths, fighting off his commando app. Why did he even engage _doctor_ Ryan?

He stood from his chair, beginning to pace. He looked around his classroom, recalling his day. His day filled with the impossible task of teaching stupid people. He would hardly call it a good day.

For that matter, no day was all that good because this was every day for him. And he hated it.

 _Get out of kindergarten and go to college,_ Dr. Ryan's words haunted the bionic. Was college really all that great?

He did a mental search through his database, looking up the most prestigious colleges. Harvard, Oxford, MIT, Stanford, Columbia, Yale... Some of the greatest minds had passed through their halls, and unfortunately, that included Dr. Ryan. Maybe it was in passing through those halls that these minds became even greater and achieved recognition. Maybe that was why Dr. Ryan was thought to be so much better than Chase.

The thought of being recognized and appreciated for his intellect fueled an old hunger that had burned within the youngest bionic his entire life. Always being overshadowed by strength and speed, no one took his brains seriously.

But these institutions would. They would _love_ him; he would become one of their greats. The thought was mouth-watering, and the bionic was addicted to the idea. College. College was exactly what he needed, exactly where he needed to be. College was where he _belonged._

"Chase?" Chase heard from behind him accompanied by light knocking, and the youngest bionic turned to see Mr. Davenport standing in the doorway.

"What?" Chase sighed.

"Why are you still here?" the mogul asked with a small frown. "Class ended an hour ago."

"Just thinking," the bionic muttered.

"Anyway," Mr. Davenport said "we need to have a chat."

"About what?"

"Your teaching methods."

" _Again?_ " Chase moaned. "Look, it's not my fault that these people are stupid!"

"But it's your fault that they _stay_ that way. And for the record, they aren't stupid, they can actually be quite smart if you don't set them up for failure. Making them cry won't help them, either."

"I'm not setting them up for failure! They just can't be taught!"

"Yelling at them isn't teaching!"

"I wouldn't yell at them if they actually did something right for once!"

"Then you're not fit to be a mentor," Mr. Davenport said quietly, giving his adopted son a hard look.

That statement made the bionic finally snap. "Fine! I don't want to be a petty _mentor_ anyways; I'm sick of this place! I'd much rather be something more exciting and be with _intelligent_ people. I'm going to college!" He made to storm out of the room, but the billionaire caught his arm, stopping him mid-step.

"You don't just say that and leave, young man!" Mr. Davenport scolded, and Chase yanked his arm from the man's grip, stepping back. "What's this about college?"

"College is where the great minds have been, it's where many of the most influential discoveries have been made, and it's full to the brim with intelligent students and professors alike! It's a place for people like me!"

"No, it's not," Mr. Davenport said bluntly. This made Chase even angrier.

"How can it not be? When normal people graduate from high school, they begin the next chapter of life, in the real world and on their own. And if they're smart, they go to college! I'm eighteen; I'm an adult! I want to make my own decisions for myself and I choose to go to college!"

"That's just it, Chase. That's what _normal_ people do. You're not normal, you're bionic."

"So? Binoics are people too, and I can certainly still go to college!"

"Yes, you can, but you're not going to because college isn't the place for you!"

"Why not?" Chase demanded heatedly.

"Because college is also full of partyers, people who prey off of over-confident _kids,_ and is meant for people who still have something to learn!" Mr. Davenport answered. "You are already the smartest person on the earth and have no reason to be there!"

"I don't care, I can fend for myself. And I do have a reason for being there - it's a place where I can have an intelligent conversation, work on whatever kind of project I feel like, and actually get credit for my achievements. What do I have here? Trying to teach a bunch of losers!"

"What do you have here? You work on plenty of projects, you're surrounded by plenty of geniuses (me, for example), you're a mission leader - which you couldn't be if you went to college - you get plenty of publicity already, you live in comfort, and you're with your family. What more could you want?"

Chase only sat in silence, mulling over what his father-figure had said. "It's not as exciting as creating the future and getting awards."

"Are you kidding?" Mr. Davenport asked incredulously. "You have the best job in the world! You are molding the leaders and protectors of the future; not only are you a hero but you are also training others to be heroes too! And how can you tell me that this place isn't exciting? Are giant spiders, haywire bionics, and rebellions not exciting enough for you? Not to mention all the life-saving missions you go on."

Chase chuckled wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess you're right... this place is pretty great, and I am pretty lucky."

"Darn right you are. College is great, but it's not for you, so I don't want to be hearing any more about it. Got it?"

"Yeah." He gave the billionaire a small smile, which was returned. Mr. Davenport was right - the Bionic Island Academy wasn't so bad when it was put like that, and college wasn't as cool in comparison.

"Now, about your teaching methods..." Mr. Davenport gave the bionic a look.

"Uggghhhh."


End file.
